


The Lay Down

by GiggleSnortBangDead



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Bathing/Washing, Dom/sub, F/M, Little!Aziraphale, Nanny Ashtoreth Has a Penis (Good Omens), Pillow Principality Aziraphale (Good Omens), but this is not really age play, littlespace, they're going to put this under age play and that's fine no shade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:09:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28325097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiggleSnortBangDead/pseuds/GiggleSnortBangDead
Summary: Aziraphale, after starting a small kitchen fire, thinks Nanny will be upset with him. She's more upset that he thought she'd be upset.
Relationships: Nanny Ashtoreth/Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56





	The Lay Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinafortuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinafortuna/gifts).



> This is a gift for [pinafortuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinafortuna/pseuds/pinafortuna)! I asked her what fic she wanted for Christmas, and she asked me to finish this one, so there you go! Thank you so much for being my friend. Also if you don't like this, I am so sorry!!
> 
> The title is from a DRAM song but honestly I just could not think of what to call this so that's what we got

“Hello?” Nanny had answered the phone, her voice low and sultry and so obviously her. 

Aziraphale squeaked unintelligibly. He was sweating, his hands still shaking. He’d opened the kitchen windows to bring some air in and still felt choked by all the dark smoke. There was a wet spot where he’d thrown his cup of tea at the little, teensy fire he’d accidentally set when he forgot to mind the stovetop. ‘Nanny, can you come over?” he managed, voice reedy.

There was a pause over the line, and then she said: “Of course, poppet. Just a tic now,” and hung up. Aziraphale set his telephone into its bed and slumped into one of the kitchen chairs, knees wobbling like they might give way. 

He was still seated there, stewing and gazing over the mess when Nanny arrived and let herself in. 

“Aziraphale?” she asked, not quite sounding like herself as she clicked through the bookshop. “What’s all this smoke?” 

“In here, dear,” he called, and while his voice was weak, she heard and stepped in. “I’m fine. Just rattled. It’s my own fault as well.”

Nanny paused, now able to see him and the damage. He didn’t want to meet her eyes, certain she would scold him for being so careless. 

Instead she turned to the stove and put the kettle on the least compromised burner. “Why don’t I make us some tea, and you can tell Nanny what happened exactly?” 

“I don’t know what happened,” he mumbled.

“Oh,” Nanny said carefully, her back to him. “Did someone else start the fire?” 

He hesitated. “No. It was my fault.” With the water heating, she turned away from the lit burner, certain of the fact that it would not suddenly betray her, and sat down in the chair beside him. Aziraphale’s stomach churned as he thought of how stupid he was about to sound, how disappointed and angry she would be. 

“I didn’t mean to,” he started by saying, and cleared his throat in an attempt to sound less childish. “I made myself a cup of tea and forgot to turn the stove off, I think. Or, I mean, I never turn the stove off. It always does that for me. Only it didn’t this time.” He took a deep, shaking berath, feeling on the verge of tears and very silly about it. “I didn’t realize what had happened until the drapes started smoking.” He glanced at his now dingy yellow curtains—they’d never be repaired, and he’d kept them for so long! 

“I panicked and didn’t think to miracle it gone right away. I tried to put it out, and I singed my sleeve. Then I realized,” he waved his hand, the arm which had the fire-kissed wrist. He tucked that quickly back on his lap. Waiting for his well-earned censure, he hung his head. 

“Poor, poor ducky,” she tutted instead, reaching to cup his cheek, wiping off a smudge of soot. “You must have been very frightened.” She kept her worn, leather gloves on but took the sunglasses off, placing them on the kitchen table. When Aziraphale met her eye, he half expected to see she was mocking him. Instead, her yellow gaze was soft and sympathetic and openly _loving_. He felt his eyes watering, his throat tightening.

“I was so terribly afraid,” he said, in a rush to get it out before he stopped being able to speak entirely. “I’ve never had a miracle just not work. I was worried somehow Heaven had taken them away! I just don’t know why the stove didn’t turn off like it always does. And I don’t know why I’m still so upset. I’ve been in fires before—much worse ones! A little kitchen fire, easily dealt with. No need for… for…” he gestured at his heated face, the tear-prickly eyes and runny nose. 

“And — ” he hiccupped. “And I don’t know why you’re not mad at me! You’re always telling me I need to be more careful. _I’m_ mad at me! I was so — so _scared_.” He cut off, having finally worked himself over the emotional edge. 

Nanny tsked and reached into her coach bag for her black and red-embroidered handkerchief. Aziraphale moved to take it from her, but instead she scooted closer and started dabbing at his face herself. She wiped his eyes and had him blow his nose, and then she tucked the once again clean fabric back into her bag. She stroked a hand down his back as he continued to sniffle.

“I don’t see what my being angry with you would help. You already seem thoroughly chastised, and anything else while you’re in this state would be cruel. Although, I have to admit: I’m not happy that you assumed I would be displeased with you.” 

Aziraphale’s heart sank, his throat feeling clogged with guilt. 

She shushed him, which made him realize that his crying had picked up. “Angel, when I’m upset with something you’ve done, I’ll tell you. But I don’t want you to go on worrying in advance. After all, you and I always prefer it when you’re content and satisfied, don’t we?” She jerked the corner of her mouth into a smile, trying to get him to do the same. He couldn’t, so he looked back down at his sooty shirtsleeve. “I want you to call me immediately when something upsets you, no matter what it is or how silly you feel about it. I’m more likely to reward you for relying on me than punish you for whatever it is you think you’ve done.” 

When he dared to look at Nanny again, she was still calm and understanding. The tea kettle started to wail, and she stood. Without saying anything, she poured two cups and prepared them how she saw fit. 

“So, I’m not in trouble?” he asked, tentatively taking the mug and cradling it between his hands. Something about it made him feel all the more vulnerable and hazy.

“Not for the curtains, not today,” she said, her tea already at the perfect temperature. “Although I will have to see to your tendency to assume that I’ll be cross with you. Does that seem fair, pet?” One hand was on the table, her legs crossed, but she was leaning in slightly, preparing to coil herself around him. 

“I suppose so,” he murmured into his cup. 

“Speak up, dear. There’s no reason to be shy,” she said, her smile gentle although Aziraphale could tell she was teasing him. They both knew full well he had reason to feel embarrassed. 

“Yes, Nanny,” he said, “That’s fair.” And though his voice got naturally quiet again, she seemed satisfied. 

“Good,” she said, short and to the point and somehow still filling Aziraphale’s stomach up with fluttering birds—or whatever the phrase was. “Drink up. Then you’ll have a bath.” 

“What?” he blinked at her. He thought, perhaps, she might just take him to bed. The bath seemed too kind, too coddling. 

“You’ve been rattled around like a loose gear, and I’d know,” she told him. “A nice hot bath will do the trick.”

“You’ll join me?” he guessed. 

“Oh, no, little dovey,” she said, and the words, and her _voice_ , made him feel all warm and fuzzy and scrambled up. “This is just for you. Do you know why?” And when Aziraphale shook his head, she tsked. “Yes, you do, you silly thing. It’s because I love you. It’s because you’re mine.”

* * *

When Aziraphale got like this, lulled quiet and soft and _little_ , he became more timid about nakedness. It wasn’t that he had a problem with being seen. It was more that it felt good to curl up and protect himself and have Nanny brush his hands away. Part of it, he knew, was wanting the choice of modesty taken away from him.

The water steamed and Nanny took a vial out of her coach bag, tipping it into the stream and filling the room with her scent: dusky rose and sweet candle wax. Bubbles foamed, and the perfume was overwhelming, intoxicating, making Aziraphale feel hazily surrounded by her.

She, with only her gloves removed and her sleeves rolled up, took his hands and helped him into the water. He settled back with something between a sigh and a hiss, they hot water verging on scalding, almost too much. The clammy porcelain tub behind him gave some relief, but his head was swimming from the heat and the smell and from how Nanny was looking at him. Even with her sunglasses back on, he could feel her eyes. 

He gazed back at her, his lips parting, but there was nothing to say. She just cupped his cheek and slid the tip of her thumb into his mouth, between his teeth. Without needing to think, he closed his mouth and sucked her in to the knuckle. 

“That’s a lamb,” she cooed. He trailed his tongue along the edge of her squared, acrylic nail, tasting the pad of her thumb, her fingerprint. When she gently tugged her hand back, he resisted, making an annoyed sound. But she tutted, and he looked at her. She had found a lolly in her bag and was offering it to him. So he let her thumb go, allowing her to remove the plastic and hand the candy to him. He popped that into his mouth and tasted an almost cough syrup-type cherry. 

One hand holding the stick, the other curled around the cool edge of the bathtub, fingers twitching as he watched Nanny closely. She grabbed her various soaps and oils and lotions, all out of her endless bag.

“Get your hair wet for me, love,” she said, uncapping the shampoo— _her_ shampoo, Aziraphale realized in a daze. She was going to make him smell like her things. He tipped his head back and when he sat back up, she was ready to lather his hair, scrubbing her fingers in, smiling a little when Aziraphale sighed.

“Poor thing,” she purred. She had him rinse while she reached for the conditioner, working it through his curls as his eyes drifted shut. Her hands were firm, precise, and that exactness was better than gentleness as she took care of him, massaging her fingers in.

She was saying something. “—hm? You do know I only like to punish you when you’re being naughty.” 

Aziraphale took his lollipop out. “But I was careless.” 

“You need someone to look out for you.” She eased him back into the water, reaching down to wash the conditioner away. “I need to check in on you more.” 

“I should be able to use my own kitchen,” Aziraphale huffed. 

Nanny’s lips pursed. She leaned in and nudged his hand back to his mouth, having him open back up for the sweet and pacify himself. She then grabbed her bar of black soap. Aziraphale didn’t think he’d ever seen black soap before they’d started spending time in each other’s wash rooms.

She started at his collarbone, and then sudsed up his chest, brushing over his soft, pink nipples without so much as a glance when he inhaled sharply. She then did his arms, and then his chest again, where the slippery bar finally got away from her and dropped into the water, somewhere between Aziraphale’s parted legs.

He went to fish around for it, but Nanny was already dipping her arm into the water, no doubt getting her sleeve wet as she felt around. She touched his ankle, brushed up against his inner thigh, and then her hand came to lightly grope by his groin, palming over his public hair, tracing down his slit and then back up it. 

Aziraphale took the candy out of his mouth, his lips smacking louder than he meant because of how hard he’d been sucking. “You dropped it on purpose,” he told her, just so she’d now that he knew. 

Nanny scoffed, although she didn’t take her hand away, now thumbing at his lips, nudging up under his clit but never too close. “Is that something you think I’d stoop to?” 

“I don’t think a bar of soap would dare to leave your grasp otherwise,” he snipped and stuck the lolly back into his mouth.

“Good darling,” Nanny said, smiling as he settled more comfortable with his knees parted and his cunt pushing up against her hand. “Keep sucking on that now.” 

Her fingers traced Aziraphale’s slit, dipping into its slick part. Her thumb brushed over his clit lightly and then again with purpose. Aziraphale exhaled through his nose and tried not to wiggle sound too much, although he wanted Nanny to go faster. 

“Oh, poor thing,” she tutted, making Aziraphale sink in a little deeper. “It’s all swollen,” she murmured, and her voice sounded right up against his ear, her breath hotter than the bath water. He sucked harder, the syrupy taste thick on his tongue. “Poor little thing,” she said again. Her index finger replaced her thumb, circling his clit. Even the slight movement of her wrist disturbed the water, a light wave only barely louder than the muted sounds of Aziraphale whining around his lolly.

He couldn’t help it: he gripped her arm, wanting to hold her. She immediately stopped, and he shifted to look at her.

“Just lay back, pet,” she said, although this time she sounded a good deal more stern. “I’m taking care of you today.”

Aziraphale let go, embarrassed by his own impulses. Worst of all, Nanny took her hand away and instead found the soap. She went back to cleaning him off, all while Aziraphale huffed and pouted. She laughed and kissed his temple, and he tried to glower at her, but it was ineffective when his mouth was so overwhelmingly sweet.

* * *

Clean and fluffed dry with one of the overly large white towels Crowley had bought him for Christmas ages ago, Aziraphale had finished his lolly and was starting to gnaw on the stick. Nanny took it out and pecked a kiss against his frown. She kissed him deeper, her arms snaking around him, holding him close while she opened up his mouth and sucked on his stained-red tongue. The sleeves of her dress were slightly damp, and she was working a knee in between his thighs so Aziraphale put his hands on her shoulders, tentatively kissing back.

Nanny battled his hands away and stepped aside. 

She must have read the hurt look on his face, because she smiled, kinder than usual, and offered her hand. “Let’s go to bed, pet.” Leading him in, laying him down, she said, “I’m going to take care of you tonight. Just lie back and still.” 

“But,” Aziraphale fretted, feeling more clear headed now that he was out of the humid fog of the washroom. “You _always_ take care of me.” 

“Yes,” Nanny said, like she was indulging him. Finally, she stepped out of her heels, unbuttoned her tight collar so Aziraphale could peek at her throat. “But tonight’s different,” she stated. “ _I’m_ taking care of you,” she repeated, like that would clear anything up. 

She got on the bed with him and settled between his thighs. Aziraphale glanced at the front of her skirt, wondering what she had for him, wondering how and when he’d get his mouth on it. To speed things along, he reached out to her, thinking they might kiss and then he could get a leg between hers and rub against—

Gently, Nanny caught his wrist and placed it back against the bed. “You’re not listening,” she said, and there was a hiss of something decidedly less gentle in her voice that made Aziraphale pull tightly into himself, scolded and nervous. “Be still,” she reminded him. “Be good.”

When she kissed him, it was light, her lips brushing his. Aziraphale could barely kiss back; it felt more like she was testing him than anything else.

He reached up again, this time just to take off her dark glasses, because he hated kissing when she wore them. Eventually they’d get knocked into his nose, and he’d feel silly. Before he could touch them, Nanny pulled back, capturing his hand again and moving it away.

“Aziraphale,” she said, not quite frowning but certainly not pleased with him. “I know you can do better than this.” 

There was another jolt of embarrassment, at himself, and he felt his eyes starting to get hot. “I just — ” he tried to explain, but he hated talking when he got like this. Every way he tried to put words together felt wrong. 

She leaned in, starting to pepper the hand she was holding with kisses. Her lipstick marked his skin but never seemed to smear on herself, and really Aziraphale didn’t think that was fair. “You can ask,” she said after kissing his soft, ticklish palm. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

“I want to touch you,” Aziraphale groused. 

“Almost anything,” she amended. She set his hands back on the bed, palms up, wrists exposed. 

“Would you,” Aziraphale started, and Nanny took her shades off and put them aside. 

“That’s not so hard, is it, lovey?” she hummed, and she leaned back in to start kissing him again: his cheek, then his mouth, then down his chin. “I’ll give you whatever you need,” she murmured, hot against his throat. 

Aziraphale huffed, because he rather felt they’d established that she _wouldn’t_. He felt her smile against him, and then she nipped his neck the way he liked, laughing when he squeaked. There was a flush creeping up his cheek, and Nanny was settling heavier atop him, which he liked, The silky material of her clothes felt good against his flushed skin, but not better than it would have felt if she was bare too.

Still, before he could start gathering the words together to ask, she was speaking. “Don’t you know how worried I was when you called?” she mouthed over his collarbone. “And then to have you assume I would be cross with you.” She thumbed over one of his puffy, pink nipples—seemingly just to make him squirm—and then sucked it into her mouth. Pulling back, she blew on the wet bud, perking it up. “Did you really think I’d be upset with you when you were frightened?” 

The embarrassment was coming back, making Aziraphale feel even more muddled. “I — I _wasn’t_ ,” he tried to say.

“Shh.” She sat up, only to start pinching his nipples, circling and then scraping over them with her acrylics. “And when you hadn’t even meant to make a mess,” she continued, cupping his chest, stroking him: one nipple wet and red from her mouth, the other dry but just as peaked, just as sensitive. And the way she was looking at him, her eyes bright and soft and fat-pupiled. 

“But, with Warlock,” Aziraphale said between tight breaths, all of him trembling into her hands. “Or — or with _anyone_ , you — ”

“You’re not Warlock. You’re not _anyone_. You’re my angel,” she cooed. “Don’t you think that makes you special?” 

“Oh…” Aziraphale breathed, more than at a loss for words. He felt wobbly and guilty that he’d hurt Nanny’s feelings, and he had no way of expressing that outside of the tears quickly collecting in his eyes.

“Oh, darling.” Nanny leaned in to kiss under his eyes, to lick a stray tear into her mouth. “Oh, my poor dove,” and she ducked down to suck his nipple again, this time with teeth, just to make him cry out a warbling, high noise. “Nanny loves you so much,” she said from between his tits, switching to the other one. “Say it,” she told him. “Say that I love you.” 

Aziraphale trembled. “I — I — ” 

Nanny pulled up, shushing him and kissing his mouth. She’d been so careful to keep herself from falling on top of him, but now they were pressed stomach to stomach, and he could feel her cock twitch against the crease of his thigh. “No, no, no,” she was murmuring, licking against his tongue and tugging his nipple and slotting her thigh against his leaking cunt. “I want you to tell me that you know Nanny loves you.”

“I know,” Aziraphale breathed out. 

“Say it,” she urged, grinding against him, slow and close. “Why is Nanny not upset with you about those ugly curtains?” 

Aziraphale shook his head. It was too much.

“Hm?” she persisted, and finally she reached down, snaked her hand between his legs and touched where she’d left him completely wet. “Be a good angel and say it for Nanny.” She spread him apart, massaging over his queint, the slick sounds of it almost as indecent as his request. 

“You — ” he started, and he felt burned up by being forced to say, absolutely on fire. “ _Love_ ,” he warbled, a finger skating by his twitchy, needy hole. “Love me,” he said, and his hands came up to cover his face, unable to bear it any longer.

“Oh,” Nanny sighed. She let him keep his hands where they were, but she kissed around them, his neck and shaking shoulders. She stopped groping his pussy to get her arms around him for that moment and just hold him. “That’s my lamb, that’s my dove. I do love you,” she soothed. Aziraphale nodded, overwhelmed. “Oh, angel,” she said, voice low. “No tears, now. What do you need?” she asked. 

Tentatively, Aziraphale peeked at her. Even more carefully, he rested his hands on her shoulders, watching her face closely. 

“Of course, pet,” she said, and he immediately wound around her, gasping with relief. “What else? What else?” she was asking. 

He parted his legs and pressed up minutely, not forcing anything. She breathed against him, and he felt her tight ribcage expand and collapse, and he loved her, he loved her. “All right, but stay still,” she told him. “Just hold on to me.” She pulled up her skirt and lined her prick up with one hand, the other still firm around Aziraphale’s back. Aziraphale was so wet, every part of him seeming to exist only to be loved by her. 

When she started to sink into him, he kept very still like she had told him; except, he whined and squirmed and his toes curled. She hiked one of his thighs around her waist, bunched up with her skirt, pressing in deeper and deeper. 

“There, now,” she said, almost entirely unaffected, prim and proper and mellow as usual, like she wasn’t splitting Aziraphale open, stuffing him so full of cock that he couldn’t breathe without feeling it inside of him. She tried to pull up to look at him or maybe to kiss him, but he tightened his arms around her, in an inexplicable panic—everything always felt much more inexplicable and much more extreme when he got like this—and she laughed against him. “Would you like me to move, or shall I just stay where I am?” she teased.

Aziraphale loosened up a little, but this time she didn’t try to push up. She did adjust, making Aziraphale choke at being jostled so, and then making him moan at finally being fucked. It was slow, and she didn’t pull back very far, but it was hard and deep, each hit inside him making him ring like a bell. The sounds he made were decidedly less pure, less cheerful—but he thought he might sprout wings all the same. 

“Keep still,” Nanny reminded, and he realized he’d been rutting back. He tried to take a breath, but she slammed in so hard he whined and cried out. “Can you come like this?” she asked. Aziraphale shook his head against her, and she tried to move away again, probably wanting to pull out and kiss it, because she liked that and could always work Aziraphale over quickly that way. He tongue could be at least as long as her cock, after all, so Aziraphale almost let her go this time.

But she was so warm, and her hair smelled like the dusky rose and sweet candle wax scent but also a bit like smoke. It made him feel comforted, and so she sighed into his ear and instead worked a hand between them to play with his swollen fat clit.

“You said whatever I want,” he said, the way she sighed making him feel guilty. “You said — ” and he broke off in a moan as she pet his little cunny and fucked him speechless.

“Anything, always,” she murmured, and it was either that or the practiced way she flicked the edge of her nail over his clit which had him quivering apart and bearing down around her. 

In the shock of it, his arms fell slack and his hands settled back onto the bed, and Nanny used the opportunity to take hold of his hips and start pounding. 

Now separated some, he could watch her: the way her eyes lidded, the way she bit her lip, and the way her hair had started to wisp out of its pins. This was good too, plus the way she was so thoroughly swiving him. He felt hot and pleased all over, even if he was starting to get a little sensitive. 

“Where does my little dove want it?” she panted. “Inside or—”

“Inside,” he begged, and when she did come inside him, he couldn’t stop shivering, close to tears again for some reason. She rode out the aftershocks against him, catching her breath before she slipped out. She kept his knees bent and spread and traveled down, kissing his soft inner thighs. 

“Mn,” Aziraphale tried to say in protest, but Nanny shushed him and pressed a kiss over his mound. She trailed lower, and Aziraphale thought she might eat her come seeping out of him, but instead pecked a small kiss against his sore hole, and then another for good measure. 

“I got carried away,” she chided. “I never get carried away.”

“But I’m special,” Aziraphale said, and she met his eye from where she was trying to kiss little apologizes against his folds. She smiled a little.

“Yes,” she agreed, “And I love you.” 

Aziraphale flushed. He had nearly forgotten what she’d goaded him in to saying, and he hoped she wouldn’t do it again. But she just miracled him clean and the sheets fresh, although a slowly dawning part of him noted that they _would_ need to be washed. She got off the bed to remove her skirt and blouse, leaving her in her slip, suspenders, and stockings when she joined him under the covers. 

“Need anything?” she hummed. “Hungry?” 

“Later,” he sighed, finally closing his eyes and turning over so she could throw an arm around his middle. He thought he might indulge in a nap; it was only fair when she’d worked so hard to relax him.

“Wait a second,” he said, eyes snapping open. “Did you think my curtains were ugly?”

Nanny didn’t respond right away. “How little are you?” she asked, the question still making Aziraphale blush.

“Not very.”

“Hideous,” she stated.

“Nanny!” she shouted, nearly sitting up. 

She shushed him, cuddling up closer behind him. Aziraphale, more amused than angry, settled back down against her. She found one of his hands and held it, pressing her lips to his naked shoulder. “My good angel,” she murmured, and he felt dizzy with affection. “Tell me your my good angel,”

“I’m — ” he choked off. He burrowed his face into the pillow, groaning, back to not wanting to speak. He could feel her smile against his back, and he had to smile just a bit too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope everyone got a kick out of this! Especially [pinafortuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinafortuna/pseuds/pinafortuna)!
> 
> (also y'all I did my best with editing this, but my head has been killing me these past few days so very sorry for any typos!!)
> 
> ([Follow me on my professional fanfiction twitter](https://twitter.com/gigglesnortPro) or [just come kick it with me on my tumbly](https://gigglesnortbangdead.tumblr.com))


End file.
